


They buy a farm

by TimeToRemember



Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: Cats, Domestic, Established Relationship, Home, Living Together, Love, M/M, On the Run, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-27
Updated: 2014-06-27
Packaged: 2018-02-06 12:28:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,309
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1858068
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TimeToRemember/pseuds/TimeToRemember
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Uh, yeah. Domestic fic wherein nothing much happens.</p>
<p>Arthur and Eames go on the run and end up living in a barn conversion in the middle of nowhere - well, it's in the middle of somewhere but they don't know where 'somewhere' is so they might as well be in the middle of nowhere - and in the apparent safety it provides learn how to fit around each other again, how to live without the fear of constantly having to fight to survive. </p>
<p>Somehow, they end up with a cat.</p>
            </blockquote>





	They buy a farm

**Author's Note:**

> I mean no disrespect to the film, to Christopher Nolan, to the characters, or to the actors portraying the characters.

They buy a farm. Well, it’s more of a barn conversion actually, but, semantics. It looks like a farm, and as far as Eames is concerned that makes it a farm and he and Arthur can officially pretend to be monks on retreat.

So, there’s the farm. 

 

Well, Saito buys the farm, but he gives it to them as a kind of gift, and it is their names on the contract – well, fake names that they pretend are theirs – and they are the only two passengers in the old, creaking Range Rover that rattles alarmingly as it negotiates the pitted surface of the road leading up the hill towards the main building.

The driver - _Cobb_ apparently - doesn’t like them. He doesn’t look like he believes their given story either – vacation, stress at work, just want to get away for a week or two – but he’s obviously worked for Saito before, because he merely squints at them a little longer than is really necessary before kicking the vehicle into gear, and when they come to a pebble-scattering stop in front of the building, sticks his hand out for the money without a word.

Arthur pays him, and they watch him go, wait until he’s out of sight before they turn and head inside.

 

Inside, it’s nice. Big, roomy and open-plan, decorated in light colours – blood would show up stark and shocking – and with lots of windows – not much cover – and they both sort of wander around, unused to having so much space. They separate to ogle at different things until Arthur hears Eames calling him, and he wanders into the bathroom to see a frankly ludicrous shower and Eames tugging off his shoes and then his socks with clear intent.

Arthur arches an eyebrow, folds his arms over his chest and prepares to give a withering speech about the fact that they are _hiding from assassins who want to collect on the bounties on both of our heads, assassins who have support from very rich people, assassins that almost killed you – it really wasn’t that close, darling – yes, Eames, it was_ but then Eames reaches out, grabs Arthur’s tie, and tugs him forward into his arms.

Arthur kind of melts a little and holds onto him, and then they just clutch each other for a while, listening to the comfortable silence surrounding them.

 

They have sex. Slow sex and quick sex and morning sex and shower sex ( _look at how much space there is, Arthur, it’s practically asking for it_ ) and sex on the couch in front of all the windows – but what if Cobb is watching, Arthur, he looked like he could squint like that for hours – but they also read and cook and learn each other again, learn how to be together again, now that they’re safe.

It’s not easy. Arthur sleeps with his gun on the bedside table, and Eames sleeps with a knife on his. In the first week, one (or sometimes both) of them wakes up every night, sweating, anxious and confused. They get panicky when they’re not in the same room, when one of them disappears for too long. And it’s ridiculous because they both lived alone before they met, and for a long time after as well, but now they can barely go five minutes without demanding status checks. 

There are the bad days, days when the sudden transition from action to _this_ makes them cranky and easily annoyed, when living in enforced solitude makes every conversation teeter on the edge of an argument that will disintegrate into a shouting match. Days when Arthur threatens to just walk out, when he stalks out the front door and Eames runs out after him, not quite ready to apologise but frantic with the need to make him stay.

But there are good days as well. When time passes and they begin to sleep better and wake up entwined together, thoroughly wrapped up in each other. When they watch one episode of _Game of Thrones_ a day, pick different characters, and debate constantly over who should sit on the Iron Throne. When they talk about anything and everything. When the gun and the knife they keep next to them when they sleep are moved to bedside drawers.

 

They develop a routine, of sorts. 

Eames wakes up first. Arthur isn’t far behind, but Eames is always first to the state of consciousness wherein actually getting out of bed doesn’t sound like a horrifying notion, and so he gets up first, makes coffee, and brings it back to the bed. Arthur is usually awake by then, or at least upright, often still wrapped in the duvet and with sleep-ruffled, ridiculous hair that makes Eames coo at him until he’s aware enough to glare, one of his eyes twitching, until he subsides. Eames will also make breakfast, and then they spend the day outside more often than not, walking over the beautiful landscape and taking artsy photos that Arthur knows Eames puts on tumblr. 

It’s…good. It’s calm and the pace of life is slow, but they both need that a little after evrything, and it even begins to feel natural.

 

And then Eames buys a cat. It’s big, it’s a tabby, and Eames has already called it Yusuf. It’s draped over Eames’s shoulder when he saunters in, and it blinks balefully at Arthur before apparently falling asleep. Arthur glares at it then at Eames, and promptly withholds sex in an attempt to make him return it.

Arthur and Yusuf…don’t get on. Arthur is neat and tidy, and takes pride in keeping the house spotless, while Yusuf sheds hair everywhere, loves to sprawl out on the worktops and doesn’t even pretend to care that his apparent habit of waltzing in and out via the front door is at all an inconvenience. Yusuf is vocal in what he wants, whereas Arthur relies on Eames’s knowledge of his body language and giving the Look. Yusuf is amenable to Eames’s dubious fashion choices, whereas Arthur stares at them as if they are personally offending him.

They do, however, both like Eames, which, he believes, is more than enough justification for him to wander around exuding smugness. 

 

Then the storm happens. It’s loud and it’s beautiful in a terrifying kind of way, and Yusuf _hates_ it, spending the entire time clinging to Eames and letting out soft, pitying meows at each bright stab of lightning. They end up congregating in the lounge all on the same sofa, Arthur and Eames talking softly, Yusuf bunched up between them, twitching on occasion.

Arthur is in the middle of making his point when Yusuf clambers onto his lap. Apparently unaware of the fact he is being closely watched by both Arthur and Eames, because this is an absolutely unprecedented event and if this had happened in Yusuf’s first week Arthur would have ejected him from the household without regret, Yusuf settles comfortably in a ball, tail wrapped around his head.

Slowly, Arthur reaches out to stroke Yusuf gingerly, rubbing slender fingers against the base of one of his delicate ears. Yusuf makes a kind of purring sound that’s reminiscent of Cobb’s ancient Range Rover, then _melts_ into the touch, dissolving into a puddle of happy-kitty on Arthur’s legs. 

Arthur’s put-upon expression fades as he strokes Yusuf and Yusuf purrs at him, and Eames just watches for a while, smiling a little dopily until he eventually leans over and plants a kiss on Arthur’s forehead, prompting a soft snort and a smile in his direction that is brief enough to make him feel jealous of Yusuf, who is still being stroked.

So. He puts on his most attractive expression. “Is the sex still out?”

Arthur gives him a particularly vicious version of the Death Glare, and gestures with his free hand at Yusuf. 

“He’s _sleeping_ , Eames.”

**Author's Note:**

> [My tumblr.](http://thehatofthehatter.tumblr.com/)


End file.
